


Goodnight

by HappyKonny



Category: Youtube RPF, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Death, Gore, Minor Character Death, Only egos here and no Mark, Sad, Sad Ending, other egos are mentioned but not important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 18:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16224383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyKonny/pseuds/HappyKonny
Summary: I was asked to write something sad with Google and Host.Host's visions overlap with reality. He doesn't know what is real and what is not. He doesn't want what he sees to become reality.So he instead chooses how his visions will become real.





	Goodnight

Google’s movements were always precise. He knew how much pressure to apply to not cause pain, knew to brush his fingers just barely against skin to cause a pleasant feeling, knew how to pull of crusty bloody bandages without causing wounds to reopen and bleed, knew how to clean the blood off without causing discomfort, and knew how tightly to wrap bandages back up without being uncomfortable.

He knew perfectly well how to be human, even though he very clearly was not. From the soft glow from his eyes, to the inhuman strength, to the need to charge at least once every few days -but more preferably every day.

He was nothing if not productive. He took charge of everything electricity related in the egos’ environment. He handled the security cameras placed around the building. He was busy every minute of the day. Spending time with Host was, sadly, usually not productive. That didn’t mean he didn’t do it anyways.

Host preferred it if Google changed his bandages. So it was in Google’s schedule, every afternoon he took an hour of his time to spend with Host.

He was gentle as he unwrapped the bandages from around the Host’s head, the other man murmuring softly. The blood caked to his skin, from his eyes and scratch-wounds kept the bandages stuck to the Host’s face, but Google was gentle and careful as he peeled the dirty things off. He threw them away once able to, hands gentle as he cupped the Host’s cheeks.

“I have told you to stop scratching.”, Google said, voice gentle as he took in the fresh wounds. Host tended to scratch at and around his eyes whenever he was nervous or scared, or during visions.  
“The Host is very aware of that.”, Host replied, and he knew Google smiled fondly at him and shook his head lightly. It was a habit the Host couldn’t shake, Google knew that.

He grabbed the washcloth he had prepared and gently started to clean the Host’s face from the blood on it, careful of the sensitive skin and wounds. He disinfected the wounds too, before gently cupping his cheeks.  
Google looked into the two obsidian eyes, and Host looked as normal as he could -with the scratched wounds around his eyes, and nothing but black staring back at Google.

He gently pressed a kiss to the Host’s chapped lips, enjoying the feeling every time. Google’s own lips were soft, synthetic skin perfect. No matter how long or short the kiss, it shared their feelings perfectly. Love and trust.  
Google gently wrapped fresh bandages around the Host’s eyes, knowing very much so that the other preferred it that way. He didn’t like getting blood all over himself, and he didn’t like what he saw with his blackened eyes.

The Host's movements were always precise. He knew how much pressure to apply to leave a bruise, he knew to not wrap his fingers around hs thumb when making a fist or he'd break his finger, knew how to peel skin off without disrupting what was underneat, knew how to cause the most amount of pain, and knew how to get rid of a body no one wanted to see anymore.

He knew perfectly well how to be a monster, even though he very much was thought of harmless. From his bandaged eyes, to his hunched over figure, to his soft and even voice.

He was nothing if not productive. He wrote scripts for his show, weaving realities into an unbelievable story. He broadcasted it every evening, recorded it and filed it away, taking notes of things he disliked or liked about his broadcast, about how his listeners reacted. He wasn't busy every minute of the day. Spending time with Google was, thankfully, a pleasant distraction. That didn't mean it happened a lot.

Sometimes, the Host spend the evening with Google. When the android was about to settle for the night to charge. Host would sit down next to him and curl into his side, holding onto the blue shirt his loved one wore every day.  
Google wrapped an arm around the Host, gentle fingers drawing patterns onto his back. His core whirring softly, his body just a tad bit colder than a human’s.

“I love you.”, the Host said softly, voice merely a whisper. Not wanting to disrupt the gentle silence enveloping them. He didn’t speak in first person a lot, and Google was aware he was the only one the Host ever allowed to hear it.  
“I love you too.”, he replied softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the Host’s forehead. It made Host smile against him, and Google didn’t even need to see it to know.

“Goodnight, Google.”, Host said softly. Knowing Google didn’t dream, didn’t truly sleep. He would turn off like a computer not needed at the moment. “Goodnight.”.  
The whirring of Google’s core quieted down, and Host’s smile slipped from his features. He gently moved away from the other, laying his arm back onto Google’s lap. 

The Host stood up, and gentle fingers brushed over Google’s features, the synthetic skin still warm from just having turned off. His fingers glided to Google’s neck, where a few wires were attached to him. To charge, and to stay connected to the network. He’d be turned on if the systems or security cameras were alarmed by something.

Very gentle and careful, Host pulled the charging cable out of Google’s neck. Then came the other cables. Leaving Google powered off with no way to wake, unless someone turned him on, or morning came, the time he was programmed to wake again.

Quiet murmurs of narration filled the silence of the room as the Host walked over to Google’s computers, and things Host never bothered to know exactly what they were. With a few careful words, the systems fizzled with an overload of electricity. A bit of smoke and the smell of burnt metal and plastic filled the Host’s nose, and he knew he’d destroyed everything Google had worked on. Everything that kept the egos safe.

Host took a deep breath and pulled his bandages off, already stained with blood. He let them fall to the ground as he left the room, knowing a certain metal bat waited for him in his room, too heavy to be picked up by anyone but the Host -using his reality bending powers- or Google.

When Google woke in the morning, he immediately knew something was wrong. His battery wasn’t fully charged as it should be, and he wasn’t connected to the network any longer. A quick look told him someone had pulled his cables out, and had known how to without causing him to wake up -a feature to ensure Google wouldn’t be destroyed while powered off.

He stood up and was quick to notice his equipment was broken. He went for the door, just to step on the bandages laying on the ground. Confused, he picked them up, knowing they were Host’s. They had to be.  
Questions filled his mind, and he needed answers. He couldn’t just not know something. It wasn’t productive to not know something.

Stepping out into the hallway, he was assaulted by the smell of blood. If Google wouldn't know any better, he would say it was too much to be able to be produced by the amount of egos living here. But he knew there were a lot of them, most of them not known very well, or even remembered. Half-faded, ideas that clung to some people's minds until even they forgot about their existence. Some of these egos popped in and out of existence, as they were forgotten and remembered again.

The ground was covered in blood. Google's steps were audible, wet and sticky. He didn't much care, though, as he saw no reason to. He saw no reason to worry either, though there was one lingering thought he couldn't get rid off, as he gripped the bandages in his hand tightly. _Where was Host?_

The first body he found, he wouldn't have been able to tell who it was, were it not for the clothes. A suit, covered in blood. It had to be Bim, judging from the bit of normal skin colour Google could make out. The ego's head was smashed to a bloody pulp, pieces of bone scattered around. Blood coloured everything red, though. Google found Bim's broken glasses a few feet away.

Google continued his search, then. He didn't feel anything for the loss of the egos. His only worry was the one ego he did care about, and if he was alright. He knew Host could handle himself, but so should every other ego.  
The further he went along, looked into rooms, the worse the corpses got. As if Bim had been the first just to try it out, find a way to kill him, before it got more “creative”.

He found the Jims in the studio. Google assumed it were the Jims, at the very least. Their limbs were bent at awkward angles, the bones inside shattered to a million pieces. One of them had his chest beaten in until it was nothing but a dent in him, every rib broken, some peeking out from the blood and broken and bruised skin. The other twin had his stomach ripped open, his guts pulled out of him. Both of them had their skulls crushed in.

Who he hadn't expected to find was Wilford. It was bad, but he had clearly put up a fight, judging by the gun and knife laying around, and the amount of bullet holes. Wilford's head had a large dent on its side, skull probably shattered. His throat was ripped open, blood still dripping out of the corners of his mouth. His eyes were nothing but bloody pools. His chest was ripped open, and his heart was a bloody pulp next to his corpse. It looked like he had been turned inside out, his intestines covering the ground around him, various organs scattered about. Pieces of flesh had been ripped from Wilford's arms and thighs, clothes ripped and torn. Pieces of his scalp with hair had been ripped off, and his mustache hadn't been spared either.

Whoever had murdered everyone had clearly had had a grudge against Wilford in the very least. So Google continued on. Less blood and less viscera decorated the hallways, as more and more egos were dead. Google had barely been able to identify the King of the squirrels when he found him. Ripped to pieces, completely covered in blood, every bone in his body smashed to pieces.

Google wanted to see if Dark had made it through this. Walking towards his office, only Google's bloody footprints were a sign of all of the gore inside of the building. The door to the office was closed, but Google couldn't hear the signiature ringing of the man. The fizzling feeling that made Google buzz and want to leave.

When he pushed open the door, the smell of blood overwhelmed him almost. The office was covered in it. But that wasn't what bothered Google. What did, was the sound of flesh ripping and being torn, a pool of almost black blood slowly growing bigger still. And it all was accompanied by a soft gravely voice, muttering and growling.

It stopped for a moment, and Google knew the person with him knew he was there.   
Standing up from behind the desk that had hidden him before, was the Host. Covered in blood, which most certainly wasn't his own. At least not entirely. His face was covered in blood, dripping from his eyes, running down his cheeks until falling from his chin. His coat was soaked in blood, and the golden streak in his hair looked red.

“The Host had hoped he would have more time before Google rose and find him.”, he said and sighed, running a bloody hand through his hair. Google wouldn't be surprised if there was no gel in it to keep it slicked back. The Host walked out from around the desk, dropping some piece of flesh he had apparently just ripped out from Dark's body. Now Google could see the ripped parts of Host's clothes, from knives and guns both. He could even spot wounds through the bloody clothes sticking to the Host, but the man didn't seem bothered by them. Wilford must have hit Host with a bullet or two as well.

The Host coughed, blood spilling from his lips and covering his already red hand. He didn't pay attention to it, even though his breathing was harsh and labored.   
“The Host hadn't wanted Google to see the mess he made. He hadn't planned on his love to awaken again at all, if he were to tell the truth. He had only put off going back to Google last.”, Host said, walking up to Google. They both knew Host could use his words to overpower the droid. They both knew Host was hurt too, though, and must have used his powers quite a lot already. The chances of Google overpowering Host were rather high like this.

“Why did you do this?”, Google asked, and he didn't stop Host when he leaned against him, and held onto his shirt. Staining him with blood, turning his blue shirt a darker colour.  
“The Host has seen this.”, Host replied, voice quiet. “He saw hallways covered in blood and viscera. He saw the egos mangled and broken. He could smell the iron, taste it even. He didn't know what was the cause of it up until now. The Host's visions started to lay over reality too much, too often. They hurt.”. Host was clinging to Google, the android realized. He was trembling. Speaking must be hard, he realized. He wrapped his arms around the Host, holding him gently against himself.

“The Host saw Google, eyes shimmering red and covered in blood. Last time he changed the Host's bandages. He could feel the android's hands around his neck. He could feel his skin bruise, and break, and bleed. He could feel his vision turning dark, tunneling in. And he saw Google smile, and he head the sickening crunch of his neck snapping beneath the android's hands.”.  
The Host's words were getting quieter. His grip on Google's shirt loosened. He was dying, Google was aware of it. Host was badly wounded, he had exhausted himself too much using his powers.

“It broke the Host. He needed these visions gone. He knew the only way to do so was to make the vision a reality in another way than what he had seen before.”, Host looked up to Google, black obsidian eyes staring right at Google's brown ones. And Google could swear that he saw the pain in Host's eyes.   
“I'm sorry, Host.”, Google said softly. He gently laid a hand onto the Host's head, leaning it against his chest. Host always calmed hearing Google's core. His eyes fluttered closed, and he let out a deep breath.

“I'm sorry too, Google.”, Host said quietly. Google could tell now, that those deaths had been desperate. A desperate attempt to escape reality, a desperate attempt to stay sane. He knew Host was in pain, he knew Host's visions hurt him. He knew Host lost grip on reality a lot. He had expected something like this to happen. For Host to snap and do something irrational.

He felt Host's strength leave him. His grip growing even looser, his weight heavy against Google. Google carefully lowered them both to the ground, letting Host curl up against his chest. There was nothing Google could do, he knew.  
“I love you.”, Google said softly, and he meant it. He loved the Host, no matter what happened. He would've loved Host even if he lost his mind, even if he didn't remember which reality he lived in. He would always love the Host, because he was the only one that made him feel productive even when he wasn't actually.  
“I love you too.”, Host replied, voice barely aduible. He was dying, and he was aware of it. He knew he'd be dead soon. And he was glad, so so glad, that he was dying in Google's arms, and that Google still loved him.

“Goodnight, Host.”, Google said softly. Knowing Host wouldn't be sleeping, wouldn't dream. He would die, like the fragile human he truly was. “Goodnight.”.  
The slow rise and fall of Host's chest stopped, and his features relaxed. Google's grip on the Host tightened, holding him close to himself. He buried his face in the other's bloody hair, and willed himself to turn off again. He saw no point in continuing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t even know man but I loved writing this anyways :’D


End file.
